


The Spaces in Between Two Minds and All the Places They Have Been

by s4ffy



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Don't Examine This Too Closely, Eventual Smut, F/M, Post-Book 2: The Wicked King, This Whole Thing is due to One Scene I Wanted to Write, no editing we die like men, the plot is background noise to set up a few specific scenes so just allow it fam, wish fulfillment bc who knows if QoN is gonna be kind to these dumb kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s4ffy/pseuds/s4ffy
Summary: “What happens now, then?” His voice was weary and thin.“Why did you summon me? After all this time, why now?” she demanded.“I need your help.”“Yes, you said that in your damn letter. Maybe you shouldn't have sent me away in the first place! What’s going on?” she snapped.





	1. Smoke and Dust, Hope and Lust, Broken Trust

**Author's Note:**

> title from bloodstream by stateless

It had taken her far longer than she liked to admit to figure out the trick woven into her banishment.

Maybe if she hadn’t been so blinded by fury and betrayal and the all-encompassing feeling of heartbreak, she would have remembered that the Fae should never be taken at face value. That, though they cannot lie, every word of theirs is a trick wrapped in a deception posing as the truth.

There was an unfamiliar ache in her chest that never let her forget how her walls had unknowingly been broken down bit by bit until only rubble lay in its place.

Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she could not stand the sight of the girl she had become. The girl who let feelings override her better judgement, who let herself be fooled into thinking that the boy who had only ever sworn his revenge and her destruction would deign to offer her wildest dreams on a silver platter. The teary-eyed fool who, despite her burning anger and hatred, in her weakest moments in the dead of night still missed his arms and lips and gentle caresses and the way his eyes softened just for her.

So, yes. Maybe if she hadn’t been wallowing in her hurt feelings and bruised heart, she would have figured out the loophole sooner.

She had tested her theory, months ago, gingerly stepping one foot and then another over the border into Faerie. Nothing had happened, except a bird fleeing from a tree, squawking madly, startling her more than it should have.

She had breathed in the air, suddenly completely free of pollution and grime as if there was an invisible barrier between this world and the real one; like the junction of the river meeting the sea. It astonished her that it had actually worked, she knew Cardan wouldn’t have been so careless in his phrasing so he _must_ have had an ulterior motive for allowing her return.

It troubled her that she couldn’t figure out why. That, in her absence while she was trapped under the sea, Cardan had learnt to weave schemes of his own and play the intricate game of politics so well that she no longer had the capacity to outmanoeuvre him.

She refused to let herself play into his hands so easily without a strategy of her own, so she didn’t linger, returning to Vivi’s house. Her planning should have started immediately, but instead when she got back in, she sat against the door of her unlit room feeling numb and hollow, relishing the dig of the doorframe into her spine. It hurt worse than being banished to know that she had lost something so fundamental to her existence; something she had prided herself on for years; something she relied upon to keep herself alive. After months of fast food and daytime TV and her mind-numbing part time job at the café, she had lost her ability to manipulate, scheme and strategise. The art of intrigue and conspiracy was beyond her reach now. The hours and hours of letting out her anger on a punching bag the gym only served to keep her body in shape, not her conniving mind as sharp as it once was.

It was moments like these in which she felt aged beyond her seventeen years, where she missed the girl she could have been had she stayed in the mortal realm. The girl for whom a boy and a broken heart would have been the most important, tragic events in her life.

_Tomorrow,_ she told herself sliding down with a sigh so that she was lying on the floor, lacking the effort to drag herself to her small, lumpy single bed who's sheets were well past needing to be changed. _I’ll plan tomorrow, _repeating it every day until before she knew it, weeks had passed in a haze of self-pity.

\--

“Jude?” Viv’s voice filtered through the door, eliciting a muffled groan from where Jude’s head was burrowed into her pillow where she had flung herself after a gruelling eleven-hour shift. “You have a, um-“ Viv paused “a letter.”

Jude sat up curiously. She had never received a letter in her life. Not even boring bank statements or bills, since her dodgy boss paid her cash-in-hand. (She was becoming more and more convinced that the café was a drug front or a money laundering scheme.)

Her door opened and Viv frisbeed the letter over to her. The creamy paper was thick and rough, sealed with green wax. The loopy, spidery handwriting on the front was all too familiar to her, and she had the urge to destroy the letter, tear it up and eat it before bothering to read it. Almost unwillingly, she dug a finger under the seal so she could unfold the letter.

_Darling, _

_Come back. I need you. _

_Expect an escort at midnight by the pier._

_Yours, C._

She let out an incredulous huff. A hurricane of unidentifiable feelings flared. How dare he command her, without so much as a 'please'? After he had banished her without a second thought, he now expected her to run back to his heel when it was convenient? She thought of that last, private smile he sent her after he proclaimed the punishment. The smile of someone for whom all the pieces were falling into place.

She scratched a fingernail over the first word, glaring as if he would feel it through the paper. The incorrigible cheek of him to address her that way after he had denied her in front of his whole court.

The bed dipped as Vivienne sat down, shoving Jude's legs into the peeling wall to make space as she did so

“Well?” she demanded, blunt as ever.

“He wants me to come back.” Vivienne snatched the letter out of her hands and scanned it in disbelief.

“Well,” she repeated, this time at a loss for words. There was a silence, and Jude idly played with the tassel of a decorative pillow. “What are you going to do? Does this mean he’s pardoned you?”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s pardoned me or not, I’ve already pardoned myself.” Viv eyed her sceptically. “I am the crown, right? We’re married.” She dug a nail into her palm, regretting every decision she had made that night. “_Until the crown has passed from our hands.” _she quoted.

“And you figured this out when?” the indignation of not being informed of her discovery sooner was evident on Vivienne’s face. She whacked Jude’s arm, and then again for good measure. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Ow!” Jude scooted away and glared. “It was a few weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter! I’m not going back on his terms.”

“But, something's wrong in Elfhame,” Vivi's voice was low and uncertain, like she was tending to a wounded feral animal who would startle at the slightest noise.

“What? How do you know?” Jude grabbed the letter back and turned it over, as if there was writing on the back that she had missed. Vivienne snorted.

“It’s obvious. As if Cardan would ever call someone ‘darling’. He didn't want to address you by name and he didn't sign off with his. He’s being as vague and secretive as possible. He’s worried it will be intercepted.” Jude’s mouth twisted into a sneer, even as she felt a stab of disappointment that his endearment wasn’t sincere, regardless of how patronising it was.

“Good. I hope something is so wrong he doesn’t have time to sleep or eat.”

“So you’re not going to help?”

“If he wanted my help, he shouldn’t have sent me away!” her voice was petulant, like Oak’s when he wanted dessert before dinner.

“What if he gets hurt, or killed? Could you live with yourself knowing you hadn't even tried to help?” The mild tone of Vivienne's voice vexed her. She didn't like being talked down to.

“Yes. In fact, I’d throw a party if it happens.” Her voice was peevish, but they both knew it wasn’t the truth. “Leave me alone, Viv.” She burrowed into the pile of pillows once more, head spinning.

She hated Cardan. If he died it would be the least he deserved. She would just regret that she wouldn't be there to see it. Even as she forced herself to think this, she knew deep down that she would be unable to ignore it. She had to just _see_ what was happening. She was going to go back. She just needed to know. Jude had never been one for keeping herself in the dark.

But she would never give Cardan the satisfaction of following his orders. If she was going back, it wouldn’t be the way he wanted her to. When the escort arrived at midnight, they would be waiting for her for a very long time.

She left hours later, after stuffing a bag full of everything in sight that could potentially be of any use.

“How are you going back if you’re not using a horse?” Asked Oak in confusion when she explained that she wasn’t going to wait for her ride as she strapped a holster to her thigh.

“I’m walking.” Her voice was grim. She sheathed a newly sharpened knife. Viv raised one fluffy eyebrow.

“Have fun,” she said archly. Jude nodded and stepped out the door. “And Jude!” she turned back to face Vivienne, “Take care of yourself, won’t you.” Jude sent her a small smile and waved at Oak, who blew a kiss and turned back to his homework, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation.

She set off, feeling the heavy outline of the letter in the breast pocket of her jacket.

A summons! She had been _summoned_ and she was doing as she was told, like a loyal puppy. She hated Cardan for putting her in this situation in the first place.

It took her the evening and the better part of the night to arrive. Her anger and indignation fuelled her until the palace came into view and she was suddenly plagued with doubts. Coming back to Faerie was what Cardan wanted. Frustration welled up inside her as, for the first time in years, not only was she several moves behind, but she wasn’t even sure what game they were playing. The last thing she wanted to do was play into his hands. She had come running back without the barest hint of a plan.

That was how she found herself back in her old quarters having snuck into the palace through an old hidden passage, rifling through her old things for inspiration. Her room wasn’t dusty and untouched like she had been expecting. Instead, the sheets were rumpled and slept in; clothes that looked distinctly like Cardan’s lay strewn over the desk and a little pot of glittering silver paint lay open on the dresser.

“You’re rusty,” came a soft, amused voice from behind her. Immediately, she unsheathed her knife from her thigh and whipped round, digging the blade into the figure’s exposed throat. A flare of irritation surged as she couldn't deny the truth of his words. He had been able to sneak up on her without her being any the wiser.

Cardan smiled in the milky blue dawn light, seemingly unsurprised at the blade to his throat. He looked overtired and drained, the smudged gold around his eyes doing little to conceal the purple beneath his eyes. Despite his exhaustion, Jude couldn't deny that he still looked good. She hated it. She hated that he could still have this effect on her.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here.” She growled.

“Now where would be the fun in that, wife?”

“_Don’t_ call me that! You banished me from my home. You tricked me and sent me away like I was nothing but another piece in your games. And then you commanded I return.” She dug the knife in deeper, a sharp stab of malicious delight at the sight of blood. She wanted to dig the knife in deeper until she severed his artery and watch him bleed out on the floor. She wanted to drop the knife and pin him to the wall and lick the droplets of blood from his neck.

His smile became brittle at the edges. “I didn’t have a choice. There wasn’t any other way.” His hand reached out tentatively, fingers winding around her wrist so he could feel the angry beat of her pulse, lowering the blade slowly. “You killed my brother. If I had shown weakness, if I had allowed that offence to slide, the court would have turned against me. I couldn’t let my…” he trailed off and swallowed thickly, “personal feelings get in the way.” There was a brief pause, “Jude,” he breathed. “You know it was the only choice, you’re better at politics, a smarter strategist than me.”

The compliment only served to incense her. “Don’t condescend to me, Cardan,” she snapped. “You’re not telling the whole truth, are you? Of all the penalties you could have come up with, the only choice was to send me away?” she scoffed. “You wanted to punish me, didn’t you?”

He’d lowered her hand so the tip of the knife was hovering dangerously close to his liver. She pressed it into the soft velvet of his doublet. He shivered involuntarily, pupils blown wide.

“I should gut you right here. I just want the truth. Why send me away? Why leave me the opportunity to come back? Why send for me all of a sudden?” She stepped closer to him, so their bodies were flush. She could feel the heat of him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathed faster than normal, whether due to arousal or fear, she could not tell.

His hand wrapped around her waist, to push her away, or pull her closer, he wasn’t sure. “Fine,” he confessed in a whisper, “Yes, I was angry and I wanted to hurt you, but it wasn't... You killed my brother and you kept it from me, Jude-“

“He was terrible to you!”

“And you would be completely free of remorse were something to happen to Madoc?” he asked smoothly. “He was my tormentor, but he was also my brother.”

She hesitated, examining the burning embers of hatred towards her step-father. And yet, she had loved him in a fashion, craved his admiration and respect, even after watching him murder her parents. She knew enough about complicated family relationships to see where Cardan’s pain had come from.

She deflated, grip loosening on the knife so it clattered to the ground, suddenly more unsure of herself than she had been for a long time. Her head hurt. She was tired of these games, of second guessing herself and everyone around her, of having to be on her guard at all times, even around Cardan. Especially around Cardan. He slowly sank to his knees and picked the blade up, then looked at her with his dark eyes.

“But that’s still not the whole truth,” he admitted softly. A hand cupped the back of her knee, rubbing softly. “I wanted to keep you safe. I'd rather you be angry than dead. You were already so weak after Orlagh took you and it was so dangerous here-“

Jude’s heart hardened once again. “However did you get the impression that I needed, or _wanted_ your protection?” she spat. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. God knows I’ve had more than enough practice after being tormented by you for my whole life.” Her words were a perfectly aimed arrow, and they landed precisely where she intended for them to cause the most hurt.

He stilled, and dropped his gaze. There was nothing he could say to that, they both knew.

Jude stepped away and surveyed the clearly inhabited room once more. It hasn’t slipped her notice that he had not even attempted to apologise. 

“Who’s your new Seneschal?” she asked .

“What makes you think I have one?” he rose and took several steps until he was leaning against the carved wooden bedpost.

“Who’s using my rooms then?” she said archly. Cardan darted his eyes to the pot of paint and shrugged. They stood in awkward silence for several moments.

“My rider returned empty hours ago. Did you walk? All the way from the mortal realm?" When she replied with nothing but a stony glare, his lips curved into a half-smile. "Why do you always insist on making things so difficult, you impossible girl."

"You don't get to act like I'm being melodramatic for refusing to take orders from you!" she shoved him in the chest unexpectedly and he tumbled onto the bed with a whoosh of air. He merely smiled indulgently and stretched out on the bed, cat-like, making himself comfortable. She sneered at him in disgust, frustrated that he appeared so collected and calm. She wanted to unhinge him, hurt him, unravel him, shatter him. She wanted to watch him come apart in her hands. Idly, she wondered how fast she could make him lose control if she pinned him down and kissed him. Or if she took her blade to his chest and cut. 

“Why did you take so long to come back?” he asked tentatively, oblivious to her violent, lustful thoughts. “I know you figured it out weeks ago.” She scowled at him.

“You’ve had spies on me?” she asked indignantly.

“No, I felt you. In my kingdom.”

“_Our_ kingdom,” she corrected haughtily. Cardan’s lips twitched like he was holding back a smile. “Maybe I decided that I’m happier in the mortal world. Maybe I have a life now and I don’t care about-“ _you_ she had been about to say before she swallowed the bitter word back down. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reaffirming those feelings, especially since she was now so unsure of them herself, “this place anymore.” She improvised.

“What happens now, then?” His voice was weary and thin.

“Why did you summon me? After all this time, why now?” she demanded.

“I need your help.”

“Yes, you said that in your damn letter. Maybe you shouldn't have sent me away in the first place! What’s going on?” she snapped. He rose to his elbows, expression serious and worn.

“Madoc’s made his move, and now I’m going to make mine. We’ve been laying low and waiting him out, but I’ve had spies on Taryn since the beginning. We can take him down from the inside, but only if you play along. Jude, you’re my secret weapon.”


	2. Both of us, Chrome and Rust, Rollin' Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for panic attacks and torture.

She regarded him incredulously.

“So, let me get this straight…” she spoke slowly, “You _tricked_ me into _marrying _you. You _exiled _me, and then you _ordered_ me back because you’re going to _use_ me?” Guilt flashed across his face.

“It wasn’t a trick.” He said in a near whisper, tail twitching nervously.

“No.” she said firmly. “I’m not doing it. I won’t let you use me like that.”

“Jude…” he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her towards him by the hand so she was standing in between his legs. It took every modicum of dignity and self-control to stop from leaning into his warmth, running her hands through his hair. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palm hard to punish herself for her weak thoughts. She disliked him so intensely she burned with it, hated him so much there was a buzzing underneath her skin that she felt would only dissipate if she peeled the skin away from her bones and itched.

“Cardan,” she replied callously.

“I can’t apologise for what I did.” She had suspected that he wasn’t sorry, and his inability to lie and say the words confirmed it.

“Then we’re done here.” She pulled her hand from his roughly, immediately missing the small stroke of his thumb over her fingers and hating herself for it. “I only came to sate my curiosity.”

“So, you’re leaving?” when she nodded, his face tightened. “You don’t belong in the mortal world, Jude. They don’t see you as you are.”

“And over the years, you’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t belong in Elfhame either!” she snapped. She had always hated the Fae. She hated them, because she wasn’t one of them. She hated them for their supremacy and she hated them even more because she knew they deserved to feel that way. She hated them for her own inadequacy and weakness. In this moment, she hated Cardan more than ever for reminding her that wherever she went, she would never belong, never truly be a part of it.

“No,” he insisted. “You belong here, with me. You belong by my side.” Her rage flared and she leapt at him, pinning him down on the bed, legs straddling his waist, hands wrapped tightly around his pale throat. His breathing became laboured as he struggled for air.

“I’m not falling for your shit again, you hear me? I’m not going to let myself be tricked again.” She squeezed tighter and felt a stab of satisfaction when his eyes bulged slightly. She relaxed her grip only seconds later, but kept her hands resting on his throat, enjoying the feeling of power and control it gave her.

“I swear, no more tricks. I swear on my crown. On my life.” He promised. She shivered as she felt the vibrations of his words on her hands. “Jude,” he whispered, a plea, and tugged her as he rolled to his side so they were laying on the bed side by side, breathing each other’s air. This time, she didn’t have the strength to pull away. His hand reached to cup her face and pressed his forehead to hers, and she squeezed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.” Her heart hurt, sick of the betrayals and lies and tricks they both had pulled, both willingly and unwillingly. Not for the first time, she wished she was just a normal girl and he just a normal boy; a relationship that wasn’t fraught with the fate of Kingdoms and war.

“I know.” He said, soft. “I felt the same way after you crowned me.” Clever words to remind her both that she had once deceived him in much the same way and also that he had managed to care for her despite it. A pang – of remorse, of regret, of sorrow, she couldn’t tell – went through her, longing for a world in which neither of them were ever forced to hurt the other. Where treachery and distrust were not the foundations of their relationship.

Exhaustion settled in her bones and she barely managed to suppress a yawn. He eyed her knowingly and wrapped her in his arms.

“Sleep,” he commanded tenderly. “You’ll be safe. Everything else can wait.” Her long trek has drained her more than it should have, and the emotional toll of her conversation with Cardan meant that her barriers were lowered. She forced the resistant part of her brain into silence and despite herself, nuzzled closer to his chest, sighing. _Just for a bit_, she reluctantly conceded. _Just for tonight_, she could pretend just for tonight. Slowly, like she would startle with any sudden move, his long fingers threaded through her hair, gently untangling the strands.

Minutes later, in what could have been a dream, she felt a kiss pressed to the crown of her head.

When she awoke, Cardan was snoring gently beneath her. Blankets had been pulled over the both of them and she rolled away from the heat of his body, revolted at her own weakness. She poked him sharply in the shoulder, unbothered by the way his eyes flew open and his pained wince.

“Morning.” He drawled lazily. She rolled her eyes, weighing up whether she should clean herself up. She ignored the embarrassment she felt as she tasted her sour breath and smelt the staleness of her sweat, resenting the Fae for lacking the need to care about hygiene.

“So, let’s hear it. What’s your plan?”

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Hope sparked in his eyes, quickly extinguished by the withering glare she sent his way.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She took a seat in the ornate chair behind the heavy desk, eyeing the discarded clothes in distaste. He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and looked out the window where the full moon bathed the grounds in a delicate silvery light. “Talk,” she ordered.

.:.

His plan was outrageous.

“You want me to pretend to be my sister and feed Madoc incorrect information?”

“I’ve been successfully fooled before.” He shot back.

“You were poisoned! Incapacitated!” she argued.

“We have round the clock spies on Taryn. We have enough information that you will be able to pass as her for a while. You just need to have one conversation with Madoc. One conversation to spill one little bit of misinformation.”

She shook her head and he paced towards her. Cupping her face, he tilted her so he could look into his eyes.

“It will work.” He promised.

“You’re certain? You’d bet your life on it?” she asked archly, reminding him of what was at stake.

“More,” he whispered. “I’d bet yours.” The implication that he cared for her life more than his own sent chills down her spine.

“If I agree, when will I leave?”

“Everything is in place. We’re just waiting on you.”

She hesitated for several seconds, weighing up her choices. She was tempted to leave Cardan, let him deal with his messes on his own. It would be no less than he deserved after her exile. She could go back to Vivienne and Oak. Forget about the place that she had called home, but that had cost her so much and caused so much pain and fear. If Vivienne could be happy in the mortal world, surely she could grow to love it too. Unlearn the instincts that drove her to always have her guard up, to always strike first before she could be struck. She might be able to be happy and carefree.

But she wasn’t sure she was capable of a quiet life. That ravenous, ambitious part of her wouldn’t be silenced so easily. Would she really be able to let go of this place? Give up the opportunity to be one of the most powerful players in this court? The same way that people felt the need to go back to the things and people that hurt them, she felt drawn to Elfhame, despite the suffering she had endured. Could she leave Cardan, all his sly charm and soft openness, give up the electricity between them, with the prospect of them being able to build something more, something better than they were?

She met his eyes.

“And if we win?” she asked quietly. “What then?”

Cardan understood the subtext of her question, even though she didn’t voice it.

“_When_ we win, it will be you and me. Ruling Elfhame together.” She knew he was unable to lie. She turned his words over in her head, examining them for any sign of trickery.

He sensed her reluctance and clasped her hands in his.

“You will be my Queen. You will rule by my side, and I will announce it to the court.” He said, intently.

“And you would be happy with that? With sharing your power and your throne?” She was still unwilling to let herself be hooked by the promise of so much.

“You make me better. I’m better when I have you with me.” His voice was a solemn whisper, as though he was loathe to show so much vulnerability. She wanted to prod him on, to extract the truth of his feelings for her. She could recall all his pretty words, delicately spun compliments and sharp insults, none of them satisfactory enough to let her rest easy in the knowledge of the certainty of his feelings.

“Tell me the truth of how you feel.” She dared him.

His jaw worked as he studied her.

“I am haunted by you. I am captivated by you. I am consumed by you.” His words were a smooth, rich murmur. Disappointment flared and she chided herself for ever expecting a straight answer out of him. “Now you.” He ordered.

“I detest you more and more every day.” She lied and watched in satisfaction as his lips twisted into an approximation of delighted pain. She stood abruptly. “Let’s do this.”

He gave her a soft green chiffon dress to wear, a match to one that he told her Taryn had recently acquired.

“We’ll leave in an hour. I’ll have someone prepare the horses.”

“We?” she asked, “Why do you need to come?”

“What good would it be if you turned up and Taryn was walking around? I need to meet with my spies. They will ensure Taryn is otherwise indisposed.” Jude wondered if she was an awful person for feeling guiltless at the prospect of her sister getting hurt.

She nodded, and then when Cardan lingered, she shooed him out of the door.

“I can’t change if you’re here.” Cardan opened his mouth, then, seeing the dark look she sent his way, decided against whatever suggestive remark was surely on the tip of his tongue.

.:.

It had started to go wrong from the moment they reached Madoc’s stronghold. Her palms grew sweaty with apprehension as she made her way past the first sentries on the outskirts of the encampment but she managed to relax when they didn’t spare her a second glance.

But, instead of making it to Taryn’s rooms first like she had planned, she was intercepted.

“Taryn.” An armed guard spied her and beckoned her to him. “Locke has been looking for you.” With surprise, she noted that, not only was this guard human, but he didn’t appear to be under an enchantment either. She cleared her throat, trying to channel her twin sister.

“Oh? Where is he?” she asked eagerly, a flighty, harmless girl perking up at the opportunity for her fiancé to pay attention to her.

“He’s in the briefing hall.” She froze, panicked at revealing she didn’t know which way to go, but the guard had already turned away. When he realised she wasn’t following, he paused and waited expectantly.

Trying to appear confident, she followed him, hiding her clenched fists in the flowing skirts of her dress. She spotted Madoc before he saw her, but Locke was nowhere to be seen. Maybe this would be easier than she thought. She only needed to plant the wrong location of Cardan’s army, luring Madoc’s troops into a trap and then she could get out.

“Where is Locke?” she asked Madoc.

He watched her, eyeing her critically for several long moments. Just as a nervous sweat broke out on her back, he relaxed and smiled kindly at her.

“He’s retired to his rooms.” He took her arm as she nodded, “Before you go, I would like to have a turn around the green to discuss some things.” Jude swallowed, and forced her expression into neutrality. “Thank you Sawyer,” he nodded to the guard who had escorted her and gestured to him to come closer. He leaned away from her as he whispered into Sawyers ears, and once again, Jude resented her human ears for being unable to pick up any of what he was saying. Sawyer sent her a fleeting glance, and nodded at Madoc, walking briskly out of the room.

Jude wasn’t sure if she was being paranoid when an icy fist formed in her chest.

“Vivienne sent a letter,” she offered, hoping he would take the bait.

“Oh?” he said, looking at her with sudden interest. She relaxed slightly. She had this.

“She mentioned that she had been to Elfhame recently. Apparently Cardan has been interested in submarines.” Madoc raised an eyebrow and his eyes narrowed. Jude swallowed, torn between leaving the conversation as it was and relying on Madoc’s underwhelming knowledge of mortal objects, or risk overexplaining it and blowing her cover.

She hoped that she had given enough to steer Madoc in the direction they wanted. 

She was more preoccupied with how to direct the conversation than with her surroundings and was taken by surprise when they arrived at a small room that looked like a study. Madoc gestured to a low chair.

“Sit,” he instructed. “I have some things to attend to, but I would like to finish this discussion afterwards.” She swallowed, and lowered herself to the chair, wondering if this was a bad sign. She smiled at him reassuringly, and he left the room. Her heart sank to her feet when she heard the unmistakeable sound of a key turning in the lock. Racing to the door, she tugged on the handle futilely.

Desperately, she cast her eyes around the room and began searching the desk and shelves for anything that she could use as a weapon or way to escape.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the heavy wooden door swung open. A cry left her lips when she saw a bleeding, unconscious Cardan being dragged by two guards, one of whom was Sawyer. Madoc followed them into the room.

“So, _Taryn_,” he sneered.

“How did you find out?” the words escaped her involuntarily, still thrown by the whiplash of being discovered.

“You really think that we’d be stupid enough not to have precautions against this sort of thing from happening?” he chuckled ruefully. “After all, this was my plan first, remember?”

She shook her head in disbelief, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare.

“We’ve had a code from the moment he banished you. You may think you’re clever but I’ve been doing this from before your mother was even born. You can’t hope to outwit me.”

Out of options, she picked up a heavy bronze object from the desk and charged at him with a cry. Before she had taken three steps, someone delivered a sharp blow to her head and her vision went dark.

.:.

The sharp throb in her skull wouldn’t stop, and opening her eyes only served to worsen the pain. Her body ached and she slowly realised that not only was she freezing down to her bones, her clothes were also damp.

She let out a pained groan and sat up, heart rate spiking as the events that led her to this moment slowly came back to her.

_Cardan, where was Cardan?_

She examined her surroundings. She was in a small cell, barely wide enough to allow her to stretch her arms out. Iron bars made up three of the four walls, separating the row of cells. A whimper came from a figure in the neighbouring cell.

“Fuck!” she crawled as close as she could get, and stretched her arm out, but still unable to reach far enough to touch him. She felt delirious with worry. “Cardan! Are you awake?” Desperation coloured her words and she cursed again.

Blood had pooled underneath his inert body, but it was a dark berry rather than the bright ruby that would indicate fresh bleeding.

“Cardan!” she called to him again, and this time he stirred feebly, face twisting in pain. His hand darted to where the tail of an arrow protruded, and when he pulled his fingers away, they were sticky. A restless, antsy energy engulfed her and she felt like screaming with her inability to do anything for him.

“Put pressure on it,” She advised, even while knowing that her advice was long past the point of usefulness. He grunted, whether in pain or acknowledgement was unclear. “Fuck!” she swore again, giving up on trying to reach him through the bars. She stood on wobbly legs and steadied herself with a hand on the wall. There were no windows. Stumbling her way to the cage door, she rattled it. It barely shook.

A growing sense of doom engulfed her. For lack of anything better to do, she kicked the door and only succeeded in infuriating herself when it hurt.

“Fuck!” she screamed this time, feeling her heart race as she listened to the fading echoes of her desperation.

She sank to her knees, trying to stop the assault of memories of her imprisonment in Undersea, without much success. Closing her eyes, she tried to regulate her heavy, erratic breathing, knowing that succumbing to a panic attack would do little to help.

Cardan seemed to sense her distress and dragged himself closer to the bars separating them.

“Jude,” he pleaded. “Come here, please.” He reached his hand towards her, beckoning. She crawled so that she was leaning against the bars, taking his hand in her own. He traced gentle patterns across her skin with his thumb. She tried to focus on his fingers in hers, using his touch to centre herself, “It’s going to be...” He tried. Choking back a laugh at his blatant, failed attempt at a lie, she leaned her head against her knees, attempting to gather herself.

“We’re so stupid.” She muttered to herself. They were just kids. Barely seventeen. How did they have the audacity to believe that they could take down Elfhame’s greatest military general? She turned to face him. “Let me see.” She said, turning and reaching through the bars to examine the damage.

It looked bad. _He_ looked bad – pallid, unusually bright eyes darting around with a lack of focus that had her worried, a sheen of sweat covering his whole face. She swallowed. Faeries didn’t sweat.

“Ouch,” he whimpered as she prodded the purpling skin around the tear in his skin.

“How are you feeling?” He was silent for a long moment, and she thought he had passed out again.

“I don’t feel good. Jude.” He sounded close to tears. “I’m scared.” He frowned, as if those words had escaped his lips without his permission. Her heart missed a beat at the sad, pathetic image he made.

“Don’t be scared,” she murmured comfortingly, taking his hand, once again hating that she couldn’t help him in any meaningful way. Lifting it to her mouth, she pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’m here.”

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” he begged, sounding more like a lost child than he ever had.

“We are going to be fine,” she promised, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. His hands were cold, though when she reached to feel his forehead, it was burning up. He leaned into her touch, nuzzling the palm of her hand softly. Her touch seemed to help, so she smoothed her fingers through his soft hair and scratched at his scalp lightly.

Hours must have passed, but she had no way of knowing for sure. Cardan drifted in and out of consciousness, and though when he was unconscious, she was terrified he would never wake, she preferred it for him over the agony he was in when he was awake.

She, too, must have fallen asleep, because her eyes flew open when she heard a loud clanging.

Madoc towered over her, examining her dispassionately. Guards entered Cardan’s cell too, and roughly dragged him to his feet.

“Stop! Leave him alone!” she shouted uselessly, shaking the immovable iron bars.

They put him in chains that were hanging from the ceiling, high enough that he could barely stand in tiptoes. He let slip a pained cry as the stretch pulled at his wound, and dangled limply. She tried to fight off the guard as he manhandled her into chains of her own. She was shorter than Cardan and her feet didn’t even reach the floor. Already, her shoulders burned with the weight of her body.

“Stop! Leave me alone, I’ll kill you!” she threatened, futile. She yelled in anger as Cardan was hit in the stomach. He grunted and twitched in pain, head lolling uselessly against his arm.

“Madoc, please!” she begged, trying to appeal to the father figure who had once cared for her in his own twisted way. He ignored her dispassionately. With a nod, he motioned for the guards to continue the beating.

Cardan jerked in agony with each blow, lacking the energy to cry out anymore.

Her heart beat unsteadily in her chest, unable to watch him in so much pain.

“Please, please stop.” She cried tearfully. “Please.” She was sobbing now, chest aching more and more with Cardan’s every spasm. When blood started leaking out of his mouth, fury began to bubble.

She began to thrash and scream, ignoring the pained protest of her muscles as she lurched around wildly in the air.

“I’ll destroy you!” she yelled. “I’ll burn you and everything you love. I’ll eat you alive and make you watch as I turn your world into dust. I swear it,” she threatened. For an eerie, uncomfortable moment, they all paused, eyeing her warily. “I swear it!” she screamed again. She must have appeared deranged – bloodshot eyes, thunder painting her face.

She jolted around, swinging wildly and managed to connect her foot with the closest guard’s face. His ears were rounded, like hers. Human. He stumbled back in pain and then looked at her murderously.

“Your girlfriend is a crazy _bitch_.” He growled to Cardan and swung a fist at her face. The blow was so hard her vision blacked out for a second.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she hissed through the pain. “I’m his _wife_.”

“She’s my wife.” Cardan spoke at the same time as her, voice weak and hoarse. He spat blood to the floor and mustered the strength to glare down at the guards.

Madoc froze, a calculating look in his eyes, and then smiled.

“Well, well, well.” He purred. “Doesn’t that make things more interesting.”

He strode to her and dragged a knuckle down her cheek.

“It seems like we no longer have a use for your little puppet King.” He purred and sent an impassive glance Cardan’s way. “Dispose of him.” he ordered the guards and Jude’s mind raced, trying to come up with a way to save him.

“If you kill him, who will crown Oak?” Madoc regarded her in disappointment.

“I always had the highest hopes for you, Jude, but it seems like you learned less than I thought.” He sighed. “Why would I need him to crown Oak when I can just have you crown Taryn?” Jude’s ears began ringing with dawning horror. “Instead of hunting down Oak in whatever forsaken Mortal place Vivienne has hidden him and having to mould him to my own wishes, why not use the child who’s already here and willing to bend to my will? You are Queen, now of course. You have the power to pass on your crown in much the same way as Cardan and Oak.”

She could only watch as they hauled Cardan’s limp body down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, ignore the weak plot pls i just want to drown in hurt/comfort

**Author's Note:**

> 2nd chapter should be up p soon folks! let me know what u think!


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